It Doesn’t Get Much Better

I’m sometimes intrigued and surprised to find connections between my life and the lives of painters I’ve long admired. Reading a biography of the great American realist Winslow Homer recently, I was struck by his passion for the outdoor life and particularly for fishing, which mirrors my own. We’ve both ventured forth with rod and creel, only to return with paint and canvas to record a sense of sublime natural beauty.

My best “catches” are often the superb vistas I discover on fishing trips. It Doesn’t Get Much Better makes the point. When you stumble on a breathtaking fishing hole like this on a mist-drenched morning, it hardly matters whether they’re biting or not. Waterfalls feed the tranquil pool, adding their murmur to the chorus of morning birdsong; the sun, breaking through the mist, dances on the water like jewels on black velvet.

When, as in my very hopeful canvas, the stately fisherman, properly outfitted in full waders, hooks onto a feisty rainbow trout, it truly doesn’t get much better than this. Even Winslow Homer would have agreed with that sentiment. I hope the beauty and serenity of the woods will come into the home through my painting –  It Doesn’t Get Much Better.